


Not Your Family

by GallifreyGod



Series: Not Yours [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, House feels his emotions, Sequel, You won't understand if you haven't read the first part, author is still sad, unrequited love that isn't actually unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyGod/pseuds/GallifreyGod
Summary: Sequel to Not Your Kid: When Cuddy is overwhelmed with the new baby, House can't help himself but to step in. Though, he's faced with the feelings he tried so hard to avoid.'He had a daughter. Despite how many times he had repeated in the mirror that Cuddy was not giving birth to his child, he had a daughter. The solid stone heart in his chest was shifting, making room for a person who was the most deserving of the spot. He didn’t want to want this, he didn’t want to want her. Though, no force of nature could stop himself from wanting it all.He loved the little girl who slept against his chest, and he was struck with the stark reality that there was absolutely no going back.'
Relationships: Lisa Cuddy/Greg House
Series: Not Yours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133033
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Not Your Family

**Author's Note:**

> finally! a sequel!!!! that may actually be a continued series!!!!
> 
> YOU NEED TO READ 'NOT YOUR KID' TO UNDERSTAND!!!

“She won’t stop crying,” Cuddy sobbed into the phone, her voice laced with a plea for her own sanity to return. She glanced back down at the screaming infant in her arm, bright blue eyes staring at her as if there was some intense message she was trying to deliver to her mother. “She won’t stop crying and I’ve done everything I can think of.”

House listened to the violently loud sounds coming from the other end of Wilson’s phone. He stuck his fork into the food on his plate, picking around the meal while he tried to picture himself being anywhere other than near the sound of the child’s cries.

“She’s eaten, she’s been burped, I changed her, I’ve rocked her. Wilson, I’m losing my mind.” Cuddy’s sniffles broke through the waves of the high pitched colic cries. “I haven’t slept in six days and I don’t know what to do.”

When Wilson’s head rose to look back at House, he realized that the other side of the booth was now empty. The sound of House’s cane clicking against the floor was already distant across the exit of the cafeteria, practically leaving a trail of smoke behind him as he hightailed from the building.

* * *

He rang the doorbell twice, listening to the echo of the sound coming from within the home. He leaned his arm up against the frame of the door, listening for any other sounds of life from the inside. By the time the third ring of the doorbell had finished, he was done waiting.

With a quiet grunt of pain, he leaned down to flip one of the potted plants at her doorstep, grabbing the little silver key that she was unaware he knew the location of. He pushed through the entryway, seeking out her location by the sound of the infant’s cries.

When he reached her living room, he saw her hunched over the baby in her arms as she sat on the edge of the couch. The thick strands of curly black hair were stuck to the side of her face, pasted to her cheeks from the stickiness of her own tears. He could see the red rings under her eyes from a mile away. Her head bobbed from the exhaustion and he wasn’t sure if she was even aware of his presence.

Joy’s screams pierced his ears as he stood and watched the sight in front of him. Lisa Cuddy, completely drained without a drop of energy left in her. Even on her most stressful days, he had never witnessed such an image. She was falling asleep with the baby in her lap; their baby. _No,_ wait, not their baby. _Her_ baby.

He was still getting used to that.

“Hand her to me,” he whispered, setting his cane against the couch as he reached out to delicately lift the baby from her dreary arms. She gave no fight or resistance, barely able to lift Joy enough to pass her off.

House took the tiny body within his arms for the first time, feeling a sense of electricity in his limbs that he had never felt before. The ice-blue eyes that matched his own locked in on his stare, momentarily pausing the screams as she gazed up at a face that she had only ever seen once before, yet felt beyond familiar.

His brows furrowed as every wire in his brain short-circuited. He was staring at his child for the first time in either of their lives. Any thought or reasoning that had sent him to Cuddy’s house in the first place left his mind, leaving him completely consumed with the tiny body that laid upon his calloused palms.

When he could finally feel his feet again, he shuffled towards the bassinet that was placed beside the couch. Gently, he lowered her flailing little body onto the soft surface. It took willpower beyond belief to drag his eyes away from hers, and as soon as he did, Joy’s cries resumed at full volume.

His chest ached as he forced himself to turn back to the task at hand. He spun on his heel, facing Cuddy who looked entirely too defeated and depleted. “C’mon, Lise.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He silently thanked himself for taking an extra Vicodin a few hours before. Bearing all of his strength into his knees, he leaned down to scoop her lifeless body off of the couch.

Her arm involuntarily threw over his neck, his arms cradling her bridal style as he shuffled to her bedroom. “The baby—“ she mumbled, cut off by a soft hush that seemed entirely too out of character for him.

“I’ve got her, don’t worry,” he replied, gingerly placing her down against her mattress. Her body sunk into the blankets despite her efforts to stay awake. He grabbed the duvet and the soft white throw blanket that had been folded at the end of her bed, tucking both of them over her torso as she lost her battle to exhaustion. “Get some rest, Cuddy.”

As he stepped away from the bed, he watched her reach the final level of drifting off to sleep. The quiet sounds of her rhythmic breathing filled the atmosphere. “You’re amazing,” he mumbled as soon as he knew she wouldn’t hear him.

He hobbled back to the living room, the screams of his daughter growing louder with each step he took. He braced himself this time before peering into the bassinet. He’d had his walls put him for nine months while he supported Cuddy through her pregnancy, but the walls had yet to come down. He hadn’t seen his child since the night he had stopped by to visit Cuddy after she gave birth. He’d only looked into the face of his own daughter once. Despite that moment, all he knew was that she had his eyes, according to Cuddy.

_"Hers are ice blue, just like yours. So blue that you could drown in them if you weren't careful."_

Those words had stuck with him for the entire week and a half since he had last seen the two of them. He reached down, lifting the little girl up with one hand supporting her neck and the other by her back. The crying ceased once more when her eyes fell on him and he was hit with the painful notion that maybe, just maybe, she defied the odds. Maybe she was born with his intelligence, recognizing what exactly was missing from her life. Even he knew how bizarre of a thought that would be, and he wanted nothing more than to banish it from his mind forever.

But this had been his fear. Throughout her pregnancy, he’d wondered if his daughter would feel abandoned by him. Except, she wasn’t supposed to be his daughter. She was Cuddy’s daughter, and yet that mantra had never actually ingrained itself into his rationale despite how many times he recited it. Nine months and he was still grappling with the cold reality that he was meant to be nothing more than DNA.

Those blue eyes stared back at him, a sense of comfort visibly washing over her as she became reacquainted with the face she had been searching for. Everything he had forced himself to believe about life was coming into question for the past nine months and while part of him wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things were before, he couldn’t bring himself to wish those blue eyes away.

Cuddy had seen him in their daughter, but he saw her. He saw the thick black eyelashes and Cuddy’s soft and dark hair. She had her mother’s nose and the curve of her lips. As he sat down on the couch with the baby in his arms, he continued to spot the similarities between her and her mother.

He believed in science. Hormones explained everything a parent felt when they laid their eyes upon their child, but this felt as far from science as could be. The words he had chanted throughout his career were becoming more and more dishonest with each moment the weight of her tiny body rested in his arms. This couldn’t be chemistry or biology, or even something he had preached before to every stereotypical new parent he met. It simply couldn’t. Every bolt of electricity broke down the walls of his defenses and debunked his beliefs. He felt like a fraud, but a fraud who couldn’t give a damn.

He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he was exempt from the reality of science, but now he had fallen victim to it. If the buzz flowing through his chest was explainable by science, he didn’t want to hear it. Every voice in his head screamed at him that he was living in a moment of a cliché. This was not his life, this was not something he believed in.

His daughter yawned as she buried her head deeper into his arm. His daughter, the daughter he had tried so damn hard to deny himself of for her entire existence. His daughter who wasn’t his daughter but God, she couldn’t be anything else to him. The entire reason he had refused to hold her the first time that the opportunity had presented itself was so he wouldn’t feel exactly what he felt in that very moment. Though, the gap had closed and his child was in his arms and suddenly, she was nothing other than his child. In fact, to his deepest chagrin, she was so much more than that.

He had given in. He caved. He was a father.

Though his name was not carefully printed on her birth certificate and she wasn’t meant to know the sound of his voice, he was a father. No matter how many times he was destined to place her back in her mother’s arms, he would never be anything less ever again. Gregory House, Doctor, Head of Diagnostic Medicine, Residency in Pathology, Nephrology, infectious disease specialist, and father. Forever stamped with an entirely new meaning added to his identity.

He felt the sadness of a stray tear staining his cheek and a part of him screamed that he should be stronger than this. He was better than this, wasn’t he? A man who never let his emotions get the best of him?

For the first time in his life, he wanted to pray. Someone, anyone who could possibly be in control of the universe, please let her embody her mother. He looked into her eyes and felt the intensity of fear that she would turn out to be like him in all of the worst ways. He wanted more for her, better. No misery, no pain, no cynicism. As disgusting as he found the people with cheer in their attitude, he wanted Joy to be just that. He wanted life to be fair to her - so much so that it brought more tears to his eyes.

He carefully lifted her from the cradle of his arms, leaning back against the couch as he placed her against his chest. He pried away his jacket, resting her head against the thin layer of his cotton t-shirt. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered as she began to mewl against him. His fingertips gently caressed the soft wispy hair on her head, coaxing her back into a state of comfort. She wiggled against him, growing comfortable on his chest as his arms held her gently in place.

His own tiredness began to consume him, caused by the tsunami of emotions that had washed over him in less than fifteen minutes. His eyes closed as she breathed in sync with him, the sound of his heartbeat filling her ears. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He had a daughter. Despite how many times he had repeated in the mirror that Cuddy was not giving birth to his child, he had a daughter. The solid stone heart in his chest was shifting, making room for a person who was the most deserving of the spot. He didn’t want to want this, he didn’t want to want her. Though, no force of nature could stop himself from wanting it all.

He loved the little girl who slept against his chest, and he was struck with the stark reality that there was absolutely no going back.

* * *

A few hours later, Cuddy had awoken in a panic. The last memory she could bring to mind was frantically dialing Wilson’s number. She had nobody else to call, knowing that House was struggling with forcing himself to distance from her and Joy, despite how hard he tried to hide it. She threw the blankets off of her body, feeling far too refreshed for a new mom.

She rushed towards the living room, halting her steps when she saw a familiar figure asleep upright on her couch. She rubbed her fists against her eyes, adjusting to the sight in front of her. Greg House, sound asleep with his arms protectively wrapped around her daughter who was fast asleep on his chest.

Their daughter.

Words she had been afraid to think for nine months, fearing she would allow herself an array of feelings that weren’t allowed. It was the first time in six days that the sound of screaming didn’t ring in her ears. Only a quiet bliss of soft snores coming from the both of them.

Her heart ached while simultaneously feeling all too full. Warm tears burned her cheeks as they fell without force. Her arms wrapped around her own torso to steady herself. The memory of him coming in the door and lifting the baby from her arms came flooding back. A slideshow of distorted images coming to her senses, the gentle way he had carried her to her bed and reassured her that Joy was in safe hands.

 _“You’re amazing,”_ he had quietly stated, sure she hadn’t heard him.

The memory refused to fail the sincerity in his voice, and a soft smile formed on her lips as she realized she would never forget that moment.

Joy looked blissful in his arms, as if somehow there was nowhere else in the world she belonged. All of her cries had felt unfamiliar. They weren’t cries of hunger or discomfort. They were a cry of intelligence, and she had simply underestimated their daughter. It was a cry of desperation in a search for a person who had spent nine months providing her mother with comfort — and in turn, comforting her. It was simple, yet complex enough that she couldn’t find an explanation that would ever fit into the confines of science. She was looking for her father.

Cuddy smiled sadly as she memorized every inch of the sight in front of her.

_“No, you are.”_


End file.
